I've Got You
by Evil Cosmic Triplets
Summary: His mother is going to kill him for letting Ron get hurt on his watch is all that Bill can think as he watches his little brother plummet to the ground when he falls off of a broom. Kid!fic


**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters of this work of fiction, and no profit, monetary or otherwise, is being made through the writing of this.

 **A/N:** Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry Assignment #2: Folklore: Folk Stories, Task #8, The Seven Ravens; Prompt: Write about someone protecting or saving a sibling. Set before the books. 1379 words

* * *

"Ron!" Bill shouted just as his little brother fell off the broomstick that either Fred or George had given him.

Had the three year old been on the child-sized, child-safety broom, he wouldn't have soared so high in the sky and there would be nothing to worry about, just a bump or a bruise, tears to kiss away. As it was, his youngest brother was up high enough in the sky that he looked like a small bird from where Bill stood on the ground, heart slamming out a frantic rhythm in his chest.

"Fred, George, get here this instant?" Bill shouted for the troublesome twins. He knew, instinctively, that they were at fault for this.

His parents were going to kill him for letting Ron get hurt while he was babysitting.

"You..." Fred, or maybe it was George, said.

"Bellowed..." the other twin finished. "What's..."

"Wrong?"

Both boys had matching smirks that Bill wanted to wipe right off their freckled faces. Instead of answering their joint question, he pointed toward the object hurtling downward in the sky at a rate that was alarming.

"What's that?" Fred and George said at the same time, and then smiled and ribbed each other.

" _That_ is your little brother," Bill said, more than a little exasperated as he scrambled to position himself where he thought the youngest Weasley boy might fall so he could catch them.

Fred and George squinted their eyes and frowned before shrugging. "You're sure that's not a bird?" one of them asked.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Bill ground his teeth together and rolled his eyes. "He fell off the broom that one of you let him use."

The twins blinked at each other and then at Bill, even as they likewise positioned themselves under where they thought Ron might fall.

"It wasn't me," one of the twins said.

"Oi, it wasn't me," the other countered.

Bill raised a hand to silence the both of them before they could get into a fight because that was the last thing that he needed. As it was, his parents were probably going to ground all of them until they reached maturity for Ron gaining access to a broom that had no safety precautions on it.

"Think his accidental magic's what's keeping him from plummeting down to the Earth and becoming mush?" one of the twins asked.

"I mean, he should have hit the ground by now, right?" the other said.

"Whatever is keeping him from falling at neck break speed is what's saving our butts from Mum's wrath," Bill said.

The twins shuddered and either Fred or George rubbed his backside and winced, no doubt remembering a particularly painful punishment. A wooden spoon to the backside left quite a memorable impression, Bill knew firsthand. He didn't often incur their mother's wrath, but he knew just how biting it could be, no matter how warranted it was. None of them had met their mother's wrath without just cause.

"Here he comes," Fred or George said, voice taking on a serious tone that it had been lacking earlier. He shifted his feet to a wider stance, and held his arms out. His twin did the same.

Heart in his throat, Bill watched as Ron became more visible. He could now see the look of abject terror on Ron's face, and it made his gut clench. He'd never seen that look on anyone's face before, and to see it on his baby brother's face was more than a little alarming. He knew this would haunt his nightmares.

"Help!" Ron screamed. There were tears flowing down his chubby little face, red from the wind and no doubt all the screaming that he'd done.

"I'm sowwy," the little boy sobbed, his cries carried away on the wind.

Bill swallowed the lump in his throat, and squared his stance, repositioning himself and holding his arms out to catch his littlest brother.

"I've got you, Ronnie," he said, offering Ron a smile.

"Sowwy," Ron repeated. "Don' let me fall."

"I won't let you fall, buddy," Bill said, ignoring the twins when one of them snickered and muttered something under his breath that sounded like, _'A little too late for that, mate.'_

"I've got you," Bill coaxed, moving forward just in time to catch Ron before he could slam into the ground. "Oof."

Ron's breath hitched as he wailed and clung to Bill, burying his face into his oldest brother's chest. "Sowwy," he repeated over and over again.

Rubbing Ron's back, Bill pressed a kiss to the top of the little boy's head and started rocking him in his arms. "It's okay, I've got you now. You're safe."

Ron trembled and his tiny hands fisted at Bill's shirt. "Pwomise?" Ron asked, voice a gruff whisper of sound.

Nodding, Bill rubbed Ron's back and walked back to the house with the little boy safe in his arms. "I promise, Ronnie."

"You won' let go?" Ron asked, pulling back a little so that he could see his brother's face.

The look in his little brother's eyes, so trusting and hopeful, made Bill's heart skip a beat. "I won't let go," he promised.

Ron smiled at him, and then sighed as he rested his head against Bill's chest, his grip loosening just a little. "You're the best," Ron said.

Bill's heart swelled at the praise, even as he scowled at the twins over Ron's head. They had entered the house, both with sheepish looks on their face, and a broken broom in hand. A broom that belonged to neither of them, but rather to Bill.

Groaning, Bill sank down into the nearest chair, Ron still in his arms. It had been his fault. He'd been the one who'd forgotten to put his broom in. He was so dead.

To their credit, the twins said nothing as they placed the offending broom on the kitchen table and set about making tea. It was the quietest Bill had ever remembered them being, and he was grateful.

"You okay, Ronnie?" Fred, Bill was certain it was Fred, asked. He'd set a cup of tea on the table in front of Bill, and a plate of biscuits beside it. For Ron, he'd gotten a cup of milky tea. He was crouching so that he was eye-level with Ron.

Ron moved his face so he could peek at his brother with one eye. He nodded and frowned at Fred when the boy ran a hand through Ron's curly, red locks, removing a wayward stick that had found its way into Ron's hair.

"Bill caught me," he said, small voice filled with pride that made Bill's chest ache.

"That he did," Fred said, mussing Ron's hair once more, and pulling his hand back with a laugh when Ron growled. "He's a good big brother, isn't he?"

Ron smiled and nodded. "He's the best!"

"Hey," George said, sounding offended. "I thought _I_ was the best."

"What about _me_?" Fred asked, feigning hurt by holding a hand to his chest as though wounded.

Ron giggled at the twins' antics and untangled himself enough to reach for a biscuit, putting the whole thing in his mouth and nearly choking on it, and his fist. Bill slapped him on the back, holding his breath as he worried that he'd saved his brother from certain death, only to have the little boy choke to death on a biscuit. He let the breath out when Ron managed to chew and then swallow the cookie without ill-effect.

"Bill's the best, best," Ron said, laying back against his brother. "You're the other bests."

"I guess that's okay," the twins said, each grinning ear to ear.

Bill didn't think he was the best at anything, but he started to relax as Ron finished his tea and biscuits and fell asleep in his arms.

"I'll try to be there to catch you whenever you fall," Bill whispered as he laid Ron down in his bed. The little boy rolled toward his brother's voice, teddy bear clutched in his arms, and smiled.

It was a promise that Bill didn't know if he'd be able to keep, but it was one that he was darn well going to strive to keep, no matter what life brought their way.


End file.
